


Such Sweet Sorrow

by sephmeadowes



Category: Original Work
Genre: A talking raven, Dragons, F/M, Fae Deals, Fairytale remake, Sleeping Curse, fae
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:54:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23851138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sephmeadowes/pseuds/sephmeadowes
Summary: Sleeping princesses, fire-breathing beasts, and Fae deals would only be in myths and folk tales . He remained by the tower, waiting, always waiting. What if the dragon was protecting the princess instead of imprisoning her? A re-telling of Sleeping Beauty.
Relationships: Original Character/Original Character
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	Such Sweet Sorrow

Queen Maeve had met many monarchs over the years. She witnessed the rise and fall of empires over her long existence. Even as faces and names faded away, she took great comfort that the Moors would stay the same. The realm of the Fae was a constant in a world that constantly changed, forever out of reach for the mortals that bordered them.

She met Prince Emyr on a first of summer, young and eager to prove himself, he stood at the border between the worlds and requested an audience with Maeve herself. More amused than anything, she granted his request and stood before the boy. He didn't bow though he stared at her with apprehension and reverence. This boy of iron had never met her kind and it showed.

"I…" He nearly stammered. "I want to make a deal."

She hid a smile. "Fae deals are no small thing, little prince."

"I know but my kingdom has been at war too long and I fear we will lose if it continues," He explained. "I beseech you to help me win this war."

"There is a price," She reminded him. "And it is costly."

"Then I will pay it."

She could've refused him. While Fae could not lie, they could twist and turn around the truth. She could take everything from him and he would have no power to stop her. She could take his life as he was so eager and naïve to know not to trust her kind.

A younger Maeve would have done exactly so. Luckily for Emyr, she was with child and she grew a tender heart for bright-eyed boys. She would take little from him this time. She gave him a sword, Fae-made, and unbeatable.

He thanked her and left, riding off on his white horse. A day later and the war was done. His kingdom was victorious. The old king was dead and the prince became King Emyr III. He grieved over his father but accepted his duty and his crown.

Maeve would see the new king again in a few years. Struggling with the weight of plague and famine, his kingdom was at the brink of eradication. He stood taller, more assured in his position, but there were lines in his young face that weren't there before. Out of curiosity, she granted him another audience.

"I would like to make a deal," He said. "My kingdom is in great peril. There is sickness and hunger everywhere I look. I need to save them."

"Save your people or your crown?" She questioned. "Do you fear for your life or the loss of your power?"

"They are the same thing," He countered. "I will pay the price."

Emyr's luck had not run out as Maeve's heart was still soft from caring for her young son. She thought of all the children dying beyond the Moors and weakened. She would take little from him again, one last merciful act. She gave him a shield that would keep his kingdom protected from the ills of the world.

The plague disappeared and the famine ended. His people thrived under the bounty they were given. Emyr's poor, elderly mother died in her sleep and he quietly mourned her loss. He did not dwell on being alone for too long as he married the princess of a nearby kingdom and put his mind to starting a new family.

If he had been wiser, Emyr would've lived his short mortal life and never returned to the Moors. However, he was still young and arrogant and his previous luck had made him blind to the dangers. He requested another audience from Maeve and waited impatiently as she appeared before him. She looked bored at the sight of him.

"Greed does not become you," She remarked. "I have been generous with you and you should be content."

"I want one more thing," He replied. "Grant me one last deal."

"What is it you want?"

"I need an heir," He looked ashamed. "My wife and I have been trying for over a decade. We have tried everything and yet she cannot get pregnant."

Maeve laughed mockingly. "Your fertility is not my concern."

"Please!" He looked desperate. "I will give you anything."

"Your wife's life?"

Conflict flashed before his face but he agreed.

"Your kingdom?" She continued. "Maybe even your legacy?"

He blanched, taking an unsure step back. "You wouldn't be that cruel."

"Oh but I can, you stupid boy," She was an ancient being and had ruined many kings before him. "And for your foolishness, I will grant you a deal. You will have a child and only one. But on her sixteenth name day, she will die and your kingdom will fall with her."

"No!" Dismayed and angered, he protested. "I beg of you do not do this!"

"The deal is done," She turned away from him as he pleaded with her. "I tire of you."

He did not leave the border of the Moors, desperate to find a way in and persuade Maeve to change her mind. The Moors' magic was too strong to break and angered bloomed within his chest. He vowed to hunt every Fae he could find. He would burn Maeve's kin and make her regret her cruelty.

Princess Eirian was born a year later, her mother, poor Queen Rosalind, bleeding to death after childbirth. Her father was dismayed at not having a male heir and showed little interest in his daughter. He had little Eirian sent to a small household where she would be taken care of but he wouldn't need to bother with her upbringing. He would be busy with finding a new wife and trying to have the son that he wanted.

The princess would grow up to be beautiful like her late mother with golden hair and lips red like roses. She would be adored by her three ladies-in-waiting who doted on her and tried to make up for the loss of her growing up without her father's care and attention. As distant as they were from Court life, Eirian would grow up running through the woods around her home. A wildling with windswept hair and grass stains on her gowns, she gave no mind into acting like a princess.

Unaware to her father was the property he had sent his only child to live close to the Moors. Eirian would see sprites and pixies around the area, shying away from her even as she tried to be kind and friendly to them. She found that they enjoyed her singing and she would repeat every song she could remember. From the lullabies her ladies sang to her to the folk songs she heard from the people at the nearby town.

" _I take with me where I go_

_A pen and a golden bowl_

_Poet and beggar step in my shoes_

_Or a prince in a paper shawl_

_I bring with me when I return_

_To the house that my father's hands made_

_A crooning bird in a crystal bough_

_O, a sad, sad word!_ "

She jumped at the raven that flew from the trees, circling overhead before settling on a nearby tree branch. She huffed at the bird, her hands going to her hips indignantly.

"No need to be so rude, Mr. Raven," She rebuked. "If you don't like my singing, you don't have to listen."

"He enjoyed it actually."

A boy stepped beyond the same trees the raven came. He looked a bit older than her with hair brown like mud and vibrantly green eyes. Her eyes widened slightly at his pointed ears. One of her ladies, Anthea, had told her about the tricky Fae folk who lived nearby.

"Hello," She greeted him warily. "I thought your kind didn't leave the Moors."

"We were attracted to your beautiful voice," He replied and considered her. "What is your name?"

Anthea had been very adamant on how to deal with the Fae.

"Never tell them your real name, princess," She warned. "They will use that power against you. And never _ever_ agree to making a deal with them."

"Rosie," She gave him the nickname her ladies called her since she was a baby. "What's your name?"

His lips quirked, knowing she was lying. "You can call me Aodhan."

She tried to pronounce it. "Aiden?"

He snorted but acquiesced. She couldn't be older than eight and he shouldn't expect too much. "Close enough, flower."

"My name is not…"

She stopped herself before she could give him her real name. Anthea would be furious with her. She remembered that she needed to be home before dinner and it was getting darker. She needed to run home if she wanted to make it before all light was gone.

"I need to go," She told him hurriedly and began running, lifting the hem of her gown so she wouldn't trip.

He called out, "Will you return here?"

"Maybe!"

He watched her go, her hair like sunlight through the trees till she was out of sight. The Fae around him had left except for Fiachra who was still perched on a tree branch and watching him curiously.

He demanded, "What is it?"

"Careful, little prince," The raven crooned in his soothing voice. "This is a dangerous game you play."

"She's only a girl," He countered. "What harm can it do to see her?"

"For yourself? A great deal." Fiachra flew from his perch and circled over him before he began to fly back to the Moors. "She, on the hand, has not much to lose."

Aodhan was unaware of the Fae deal between his mother and King Emyr. He was unaware of the real identity of the girl he met in the woods. And she in return had no knowledge of Fae deals. This made friendship bloom between the two of them easily.

And as time flew by like leaves in the wind and Eirian became more beautiful with each passing year, love came in the spring. She was wearing a crown of flowers and a gown of blue silk when he saw her and felt something within him come to life. He'd seen her hundreds of times before but this was the moment when he realized he did not want to be only her friend.

She had been a playmate and a confidant. Always cheerful with her singing and she enjoyed the woods as much as he. Both lonely children, they had grown attached to each other quickly. Even with Fiachra's ever present warnings, he pursued her company and kept her a secret from his mother's watchful eyes.

He approached her and she gave him her bright smile. She had no idea what it did to him and he took her hand gently.

"I want to show you something," He told her. "Do you trust me?"

"Of course."

She let him lead her past the circle of trees and she shivered at the ancient magic in the place. A song older than living memory lived within this land making everything more lush and beautiful than anything she'd seen in her world. Green fertile land that went on for miles, trees larger than castles, and little pixies flying freely through the air, it was like something out of a dream. She stared in awe as he led her through the land until they reached a meadow of hundreds of rose bushes.

He turned to her, smiling softly. "They started growing when I met you and the more I knew you the more they grew."

"I…" She felt overwhelmed. "Why did you take me here? Aren't mortals forbidden to enter the Moors?"

"Not unless they're invited," He replied. "And you will always be welcomed here."

"Why?"

"I realized today that I love you," He swallowed, green eyes bright. "And I think it began the moment I met you."

"We were children," His confession was wonderful and it frightened her. She had never been loved by any man before and she did not know what to do with it. "And how do you know you truly love me?"

He tucked stray golden curls behind her ears, cupping her face lightly. "Rosie, to know you is to love you."

Fae couldn't lie. Anthea had told her that. They could twist the truth in a myriad of ways but they could never outright lie. She clung to that face with desperation.

"Do you love me?"

Without hesitation, he replied, "Yes."

She finally smiled. Relief and happiness making her tear up and she sobbed lightly. "I am glad and you have reduced me into a waterfall."

"Forgive me," He wiped her tears away. "I did not mean to."

She sobbed again and pulled him into a hug, feeling light and full at the same time. She was full of emotions and expectations to the point of pain. She had loved this boy for so long she didn't even know how to put it to words. Except for maybe for three.

"I love you," She confessed. "I love you so very much that I can barely stand it, Aiden."

"It's Aodhan," He returned, laughing. "Is it not about time you called me by my name?"

"I know your name," She rested her forehead against his, breathing in the truth of the moment. "And my name isn't Rosie. It's Eiriann."

"I know your name," He kissed the corner of her mouth. "I've always known."

"Good."

She kissed his mouth and shook from the force of what she felt. Nothing had ever felt this intense before, not even anger or disappointment had affected her so. She had spent a lifetime being rejected by her father, ignored by his attempts of marrying wife after another, trying to produce a male heir to no results. She had always thought no man would love her because of whatever defects her father found in her. To be wrong was not such a terrible thing.

"Little prince, you have done the worst," Fiachra nearly cawed. "You will break your heart to the point of no return."

"I love her, Fiachra," Aodhan reasoned. "I have never felt love like this before."

"I know and what sorrow you shall feel," Fiachra landed on the stone on the ground beside where he sat. "I never wanted you to feel such pain."

"Do you know something I don't, Fiachra?" He asked. "Are you keeping secrets from me?"

"Maeve told me never to tell but I love you, my little prince, more than I fear her," The raven said. "The girl you love is a princess. Her father made a deal with your mother for her to be born. And on her sixteenth name day, she will die."

"No!" Stricken with fear and despair, he protested. "Please no!"

"It is true, Aodhan," Fiachra insisted. "I would never lie to you."

Coming to his mother was not easy. His mind clouded with anger and desperation, he found her in her garden tending to her flowers. She did not return as he approached as she cut off the weeds with a knife. She was beautiful and ethereal, a relic of an older time when their kind ruled all the realms and he wondered how his mother withstood being alone.

"Mother," He began. "I need the truth from you."

"About what?" She continued cutting away. "I do not lie, Aodhan."

"But you keep secrets," He replied. "Is it true you made a deal about a mortal princess?"

"I have made many deals about princesses," She cut off a daisy from its stem and raised it to her nose to sniff it. "They are the center of several stories."

"What about the one that will die on her sixteenth name day?"

She finally looked at him. "The raven talked?"

"Please, mother," He knelt down beside her. He would kneel as low as he could for her mercy. "Please break the deal."

"We cannot break our deals," She crushed the daisy in her hands. "It is impossible."

"Make a deal with me then," He offered. "Take anything, my magic, my life so that she will live."

She dropped the crushed daisy. "Why do you concern yourself with a mortal girl?"

"I love her," He confessed. "I cannot exist in a world where she does not."

She closed her eyes, rubbing her forehead in frustration. "You are young. You will love again."

"I will not!" He declared. "You may not understand because you've never loved anyone! Not my father! Not even me!"

He regretted the words as soon as he said them. His mother kept quiet, looking at him as if seeing her for the first time and she kept any hurt buried inside her. He reached over and grabbed his hand, her long nails digging into his arm. He did not pull away.

"If that is what you want then I will oblige," She hissed. "I will make you a deal. She will not die on her sixteenth name day, instead she will fall into a death-like sleep for a hundred years and you, my devoted son, will keep watch over her until she awakens."

"I can do that."

A hundred years would be a heartbeat for a Fae. He was immortal after all. The wait wouldn't be pleasant but not impossible.

"Not in this form."

Maeve smiled as he pulled away, a burning that began from his heart spread out through his body. He collapsed to the ground on all fours and shouted in pain as his bones and flesh remade themselves to something far larger. His skin turned into scales harder than any stone, his hands and feet into claws, great wings protruded from his back, and every breath was made of flames. He was a creature, a beast of terror as he flew up in his new form and surveyed the world around him.

"A princess should be guarded by a monster after all," Maeve sighed wistfully. "And you have a lesson to learn, my dear son."

He did not appear to Eiriann. He watched her from afar as she searched for him in the woods despite the rain, calling out his name. Ashamed, he hid in the darkest parts of the Moors, away from all his kin. Only Fiachra kept close, his loyal friend to the end.

Eiriann's sixteenth name day came and her ladies were dismayed to find she would not awaken from her sleep. They called in healers to see what was wrong with the princess but none could give answers on why she continued to sleep. Her father eventually came to see her and stared down regretfully at his only child. He ignored her for a lifetime of wanting a son and lost anytime with her as a result.

His shame turned into resentment and anger and with his unbeatable sword and shield, he made his way to the border of the Moors. He shouted for Maeve, wanting justice for the wrongs he felt committed against him. He had lost his family and now his legacy as she predicted. He wanted her blood in payment.

Aodhan watched him rage through the trees, his own rage burning inside him until he couldn't ignore it for long. He needed somebody to blame for what had happened to him and Eiriann and the man that started it all was right in front of him. He raised his large head from behind the trees and Emyr stepped back in shock, raising his sword with a trembling hand. Aodhan opened his mouth and let out all his rage and sorrow unto Emyr in a gust of flame.

Emyr was barely able to scream before he was gone, leaving only ashes. The sword and shield Maeve gave him melting into nothing. To Aodhan's disappointment, the death of the king gave little comfort. He spread his wings and flew into the sky, ignoring the screams of terror of the people that saw him.

Eirian's ladies-in-waiting would stay by her side as they aged and knowing they would not be there to care for her longer, they brought her into an abandoned tower, the last of an ancient castle that once stood on the land for her to stay. Anthea, grey-haired and morose, found Aodhan flying nearby and went to talk to him. He stared down at her warily.

"You are a Fae, aren't you?" She scoffed. "I did tell her never to trust any of your kind."

He said nothing.

"I heard rumors of a Fae deal about her birth. It would make sense," She continued. "Tell me. Will she ever awaken?"

He inclined his head.

"And you will watch over her?" She smiled, sadly. "I, Ruth, and Marianne will not be in this world for too long. We would be grateful if you would protect her until she wakes up."

He inclined his head again.

"Thank you," She bowed, deep as she could with her trembling knees. "Please tell her we loved her as our own. And we only wish for her happiness."

For a long time, he would be alone, watching over the tower. Faichran succumbed to old age and left him. The three old women would be buried and forgotten. The kingdom they served would have different rulers before it crumbled into nothing.

The stories of a sleeping princess, a fire-breathing beast, and Fae deals would only be seen as myths and folk tales. Faces and names faded before him and he remained by the tower, waiting, always waiting. Patience would be his best virtue even if mercy wouldn't be. He did not hesitate to burn any trespasser.

As time wore on, the more he forgot himself, until his name felt like a story he fabricated to comfort himself. He became more beast than man. Unused words became instincts. All he knew was to protect the tower and to never late anyone enter.

He was in the middle of a nap, the afternoon sun bathing him in blissful warmth when he felt the presence of a stranger. He snarled at the sight of the woman. She smiled at him and he opened his mouth to breathe fire but she stopped him with a word.

"Aodhan."

He stared at her in confusion.

"You don't remember, anymore?" She moved closer and stroked the scales around his face. "Perhaps I've been too cruel to you, my son."

He pulled away from her. She stirred something inside of him but did not know what it was. He did not trust her and he wanted her to leave. He was torn between flying off and staying but knew he could not leave the tower. There was something important in the tower.

"It's been a hundred years since we've made the deal," She continued. "And you have proven yourself more devoted than I could've imagined."

The encompassing heat in his chest began to fate and he snarled and twisted as he tried to fight it. His bones and flesh twisted, pressing him into a much smaller form. His great wings disappeared, his scales smoothening into soft skin, his claws became hands and feet. He was left gasping on the ground as he adjusted into his new form. The world around him became larger.

The woman – Maeve, his mother he began to remember slowly – knelt down beside him on the ground and stroked his hair gently. "You may hate me for what I've done to you but for what it's worth, I am sorry for causing you pain."

"Ei…" He tried to form the syllables of name he knew meant significantly to him. "Eir…ri…anne."

"She's in the tower, waiting for you to wake her," Maeve told him. "All you need to do is give her a kiss. True love's kiss."

He slowly got to his feet, refusing Maeve's help. He needed to do this on his own. The use of his new – old – limbs was excruciating but he continued on. His knees wobbling on unsteady feet, he walked over to the tower he guarded for a century and made his way up the stone steps, his breath laboring as he made his way to the room at the top.

Eiriann lay on a stone altar, untouched by time. She wore the same blue silk dress she wore when he took her to the Moors. She looked the same even after all this time and the century that passed felt like a dream. And if they stepped out of the tower, nothing would have changed.

He leaned over her, shaking hands touching her soft golden curls. She was even more beautiful than he remembered, memory dulling her in his mind. And he kissed the red mouth he'd adored. He pulled back, waiting. He was good at waiting.

She breathed in once, twice, before her eyelids fluttered open. Her sleepy eyes searched the room before she saw him and she smiled softly. "Aodhan."

"Hello, flower," He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her mouth again. "I need you to make a deal with me."

Wise Anthea had warned her about Fae deals. He couldn't blame her for the wariness considering how much sorrow it had caused them. Still he needed her to say yes. It was important.

She asked, "What would be the deal?"

"I want to make you immortal," He said. "And in return, you will spend that life with me in the Moors."

She smiled brightly. "Is that all? Of course I'll accept."

Queen Maeve had seen many love stories over the years. She witnessed the start and end of romances over her long existence. Even as faces and names faded away, she took great comfort that her son and his wife stayed blissfully together. The realm of the Fae was a constant in a world that constantly changed and they remained a secret for themselves alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Was there any real reason I needed to remake Sleeping Beauty? Not really. I just wanted to do something where the dragon wasn't the bad guy. That he was protecting her and not imprisoning her. Remember that time in Doctor Who Rory Williams guarded Amy Pond for 2000 years while she slept inside a box? Rory is still my fave (not) Disney prince.
> 
> The song Eiriann sang was Old Welsh Song by Joan Baez.
> 
> Title is from Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet in Act II Scene II, "Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow."


End file.
